by Clee, Adele
“Claudia supports my decision to discover the truth about what happened that night,” Mr Lockhart said. “Regardless of the outcome.”
“The truth?” Selina blurted. “We all know what happened, Hudson. Although we were the ones who remained at home, we have all suffered.”
“Suffered?” Lockhart’s disdainful snort suggested he despised this woman.
Selina drew back her shoulders. “Your mother has not smiled since the night you left. Your father is on his deathbed. Because of you, he’s lost the will to live. Justin visits him daily hoping to persuade him to change his will, and there is not a night that goes by when I don’t wake in a cold sweat, when I don’t blame myself for what happened.” Selina inhaled deeply after finishing her lecture, and then her shoulders sagged.
Claudia turned to Mr Lockhart and whispered, “Justin?”
“Justin Perigrew. My cousin and my father’s godson.” Lockhart turned to his brother. “No doubt Justin is keen to inherit my share of the family fortune. Father wrote a few months after I arrived in India, informing me he’d struck me from his will.”
“What did you expect?” Terence waved the ridiculous mask again. “He thinks you ran away from your responsibilities. He thinks you deserted your family to run amok with your friends.”
“And now he thinks you’re dead,” Selina added.
In all honesty, it was hard to absorb the amount of information being batted back and forth. So Mr Lockhart had been disinherited. Was that the villain’s plan all along? Was money the motive? If so, they should attempt to discover what other amendments his father had made to his will.
It would also help if Mr Lockhart explained precisely what had happened on that fateful night. Claudia was somewhat surprised at herself for not enquiring before. Then again, she was being paid for her services. Should it matter what caused him to flee to India all those years ago?
“I intend to call on them tomorrow, though doubt I’ll receive a warm welcome.” There was a sadness in Mr Lockhart’s voice that for all his bravado he could not disguise. For no reason other than to soothe him, Claudia reached for his hand and gripped his fingers.
“You should leave them be,” Selina said, throwing deadly daggers their way. “Your parents have been through enough, we all have. You should take your wife far away from here and never return.”
Since her initial outburst, Selina Lockhart’s nerves appeared unhinged. Guilt and an element of remorse flashed in her dark eyes. Anger lingered there, too. Everyone had suffered greatly it seemed.
“The longer you stay here, the more you put your life at risk,” Terence added. His tone lacked compassion, and he shuffled on the spot as if Mr Lockhart was an irritation, an annoying scratch he couldn’t quite reach.
“Perhaps you developed a hearing impediment during my absence,” Mr Lockhart said coldly. “I am not the young man you chased away with morbid tales of the hangman’s noose.” Mr Lockhart laced his fingers with Claudia’s. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “My wife wishes to remain in London, and so London is where we shall stay.”
“Then she is as foolish as you are,” Terence spat.
A growl resonated in the back of Mr Lockhart’s throat. “Say what you like about me, but do not dare speak ill of my wife.”
Claudia’s heart fluttered. Heat filled her chest. While she embraced her role as a spinster and mistress of the manor, there was something comforting about knowing a man would fight to protect her. Even when he was merely acting the part.
“How times change.” Selina scowled. “You used to be a man who cared only for himself.”
Lockhart stared down his nose. “That is a lie.”
A look passed between them—unspoken words that hinted at dark secrets. If Emily were here, she would note the animosity in the air, a mutual disrespect that neither Mr Lockhart nor Selina could hide.
“You’re too blind to see your own hypocrisy.” Selina’s mirthless chuckle conveyed her contempt. “You say you care about your wife and yet you’re willing to risk her ending up poor and destitute and living in the workhouse.”
A figure hovering on the other side of the glass doors captured Claudia’s attention. Mr Drake guarded the exit, his large frame filling the space, preventing anyone from escaping out onto the terrace. Mr Lockhart’s other friends were there, ready to jump to his defence at a moment’s notice.
Despite being paid to be his wife, Claudia felt a shred of loyalty to Mr Lockhart, too. Indeed, his sibling was not interested in asking her name. Neither Terence nor Selina cared that their brother had not perished from a fever. Neither cared that he had come home, nor that they might expect another addition to the family.
“My husband is not a fool.” The words burst from Claudia’s lips to mark her annoyance. “Do you honestly think he would put his wife and child at risk? Surely you know him well enough to know he would fight to the death to protect those he loves?” Claudia sucked in a breath. “Clearly, you know nothing of the man you abandoned five years ago.”
Mr Lockhart squeezed her fingers.
“And my name is Claudia, in case you should be remotely interested in congratulating us on our marriage. But wait. You’re too self-absorbed to consider our thoughts and feelings.”
Once she had started, she couldn’t stop.
Much like the moment she’d locked lips with Hudson Lockhart. She cast the gentleman a sidelong glance, noted the smug grin playing on those full lips, lips capable of rendering an innocent lady helpless.
Mr Lockhart cleared his throat. “My wife has said all that’s needed. I shall visit our parents tomorrow, if only that they might learn their son is alive before hearing the news from malicious gossips.”
Keeping a firm grip of Claudia’s hand, Mr Lockhart moved to walk past them.
“Hudson, wait!” Terence called. Evidently, he still had much to say.
Mr Lockhart did not reply. As they stepped up to the terrace door, Mr Drake pushed it open and threw a menacing glare Terence Lockhart’s way.
“Hudson!” Terence cried. “For the love of God, you cannot stay here.”
Mr Lockhart glanced back at his brother. “I listened to you once but never again.” His brown eyes turned dark and predatory. For a second, he looked capable of ripping a man’s heart from his chest. “Now that I’m older and wiser, I shall do as I damn well please.”
Chapter Nine
Hatred, he could deal with. The emotion had been Lockhart’s permanent companion these last five years. It lived in his chest like a parasite, thrived on any opportunity to rear its ugly head and feed on anyone who dared offer a challenge.
But now another emotion fought to rid him of his disease. This one had no name or label. It was like a forgotten word on the tip of his tongue. No matter how hard he tried, he could not claim it.
Lockhart traipsed behind Miss Darling as she climbed the stairs, heading for their bedchamber. The cerulean gown clung to her hips to accentuate the sensual sway. Lust simmered in his blood. Kissing her had only intensified his craving. But that was not the nameless sensation that sent anger at his brother fading into the background.
Was it pride he felt?
Miss Darling shone amongst the ladies of the ton. Gentlemen leered, taken by her vivacious countenance. Had he not kept her firmly at his side, every rake and rogue would have sought her company on the dance floor.
Was it gratitude?
Despite knowing it was all an act, a surge of warmth had flooded his chest when she’d berated Terence and Selina for their lack of thought and care. Hearing her good opinion of him had played havoc with his mind. It roused a determination to be the best version of himself, the best version just for her.
It was all rather odd—all rather baffling.
Consequently, he’d remained silent during the carriage ride home. Numerous times, she had praised his loyal friends in an attempt to restore his flagging equilibrium. He admired that about her, too. Unlike Sel
ina Lockhart, there wasn’t a selfish bone in Miss Darling’s body.
When she opened the door to their bedchamber, a flurry of excitement dragged him from his musings. She glanced back over her shoulder as if unsure if he would follow. This charming game they played would distract him long enough to keep all anger and frustration at bay.
“Thank heavens someone had the foresight to light the fire.” Miss Darling raced to warm her hands in front of the amber flames. “My fingers and toes are still numb.”
After fifteen minutes spent conversing with his friends, they had left the comte’s masquerade before supper. It was not an entirely selfish decision. A woman with so pure a heart as Miss Darling did not deserve to be stripped and whipped by the gossips. Lord knows what lies Selina had spouted in his absence. No doubt Lockhart was the dissipated rogue who sought entertainment in warmer climates. The vixen had to make some excuse for marrying his brother.
“I instructed Mrs Brewster to keep the fire going all night.” Else a man might be tempted to snuggle next to a warm body when slipping into a cold bed.
“How extravagant.”
Lockhart watched her rub her fingers together to get the blood flowing again. She was dressed like a duchess, yet her actions reminded him of those huddled around a brazier in a dingy alley. He rather liked that she could be herself in his company. There were times during this game that he wasn’t sure what was real and what was done for the benefit of deception.
“Lissette will be up in a moment,” she said, failing to look at him. “Sharing a room makes undressing awkward.”
“Why?” He relished the prospect of having another opportunity to tease her. “You’re my wife. I shall lounge back on the bed and watch you attend to your ablutions.” An erotic vision of her standing naked in a hip bath flashed into his mind.
Her head shot round, her eyes wide with alarm. “You cannot stay while I undress.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Oh, can I not say I have my … my monthly …”
“Courses?”
“Yes, and so must sleep in another room.”
Lockhart chuckled to himself. Never, to his knowledge, had a woman made excuses to avoid sharing his bed. To his knowledge, no woman had ever discussed a subject considered taboo.
“Perhaps you can use that excuse later in the week, once we have assured the staff this is a love match.”
Miss Darling huffed and puffed. “Considerate husbands leave the room when their wives undress.”
“And scandalous rogues take every opportunity to see their wives naked.”
“You’re not a scandalous rogue. You’re just a little misguided.”
“Misguided?” he almost said but thought better of it. Now that the conversation had turned to his failings, he decided to grant his wife’s request. “I shall go and pour us both a brandy. A nip will prevent a chill and settle your nerves. Send Lissette down to the study once you’re ready to receive me.”
Ready to receive me?
He had never spoken those words to a woman, although with his rampant imagination he could turn a respectable phrase into something licentious.
An anxious smile played on her lips. “I trust you have a nightshirt.” Her gaze journeyed over his chest. “If not, now would be the time to find a suitable alternative.”
He was hoping she might make allowances, that after sharing a heated kiss on the terrace she might be eager for more. “I can always wear a shirt.” Then again, she had asked him to wear one to bed not keep it on for the whole night.
A rap on the door brought Lissette.
Lockhart left them alone.
Time spent sitting behind the desk in the study afforded him an opportunity to contemplate the night’s events. He had hardly received the welcome home one might expect. Did guilt form the basis of Terence’s frustrations? No doubt he’d replayed the events of that fateful night many times over the years. Had Terence always loved Selina? He’d wasted no time in marrying the woman. Is that why he encouraged Lockhart to flee?
Lockhart gathered his glass from the silver tray on the desk and swallowed a mouthful of brandy. The amber liquid did little to settle the restlessness within. The game had begun. He had moved into position. Tomorrow, he would make his next move, and then he would wait for a counterattack.
It would come.
He was certain.
He spent the next thirty minutes contemplating all the possible scenarios before a knock on the door drew him from his reverie.
“Enter.”
Lissette came into the room, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mrs Lockhart, she says you may attend her now, sir.”
Attend her?
Oh, the lady would get his undivided attention for the next hour at least.
“Thank you, Lissette.”
Lissette curtsied and left the room.
Lockhart poured two glasses of brandy and mounted the stairs. The anticipation of what awaited him beyond the bedchamber door raised a satisfied smile. Indeed, he almost chuckled aloud when plotting the ways he might tease the woman currently waiting in bed.
Gripping both glasses in one hand, he turned the doorknob and entered the room.
Miss Darling’s faint gasp reached his ears. The lady sat propped up against a mound of pillows. Like a virgin on her wedding night, unease flickered in her eyes. With the fire still burning in the grate, she had no reason to be cold. Yet she’d thrust her hands beneath the gold coverlet and pulled it up to her chin.
“Your brandy,” he said, placing the glass on the side table next to the bed.
She offered him a weak smile, but his attention shifted to the silky blonde tresses spilling over her shoulders. During the month he’d stayed at the cottage, he had never seen her hair down. She looked virtuous, angelic, so beautiful it only made him want her all the more.
“You look more relaxed with your hair loose,” he said to justify why he happened to be staring for so long. His rampant imagination formed images of what lay beneath the blankets. She had trim ankles—he knew that much—perhaps shapely calves, too, and soft thighs that flared into curved hips and—
Damnation!
If he didn’t dampen his ardour, she’d get a shock once he’d stripped to his shirt.
Deciding conversation was the best way to proceed if he hoped to think of anything other than Miss Darling’s naked body, he said, “What were your initial impressions of Terence and Selina?”
Miss Darling straightened a little upon hearing the question. “A small part of me pitied them. Though I doubt they have suffered as you have. The sight of you caused them both great pain.”
“And the large part?”
“Despised them for not welcoming you home, for not throwing their arms around you, for not giving you the comfort you deserve.”
He sipped his brandy while studying her over the rim of the glass. Her honesty hit a nerve. It took an effort to dismiss the heavy cloud of sadness forming. “I despise them, too, for the reasons you so eloquently explained.”
Silence descended.
“Were they always so cold and unfeeling?” she asked.
Lockhart wasn’t sure where to take this conversation. He suspected this was the first question of many, and so he placed his glass on the mantel and set about slowly undressing.
“No, not always.”
Memories came flooding back.
Being the younger brother, Terence had once respected Lockhart’s opinion. For a time they were inseparable. They went riding together, hunting, played piquet. They often vied for the same girl’s attention—all part of the game—all part of brotherly camaraderie.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Miss Darling said. “We can blow out the candles and go to sleep. But if you need to talk, know that what is spoken between us is said in the strictest confidence. Know I would never betray a trust.”
“I know,” he said as his chest grew warm and the strange feeling of nerves and excitement surfaced again. Perhaps he was standing too clo
se to the fire. Perhaps, despite believing he could never trust anyone fully, this odd connection he shared with Miss Darling meant she was different.
“We used to be close,” he said, shrugging out of his black coat and throwing it over the chair flanking the fire. “It changed in those last few months before I fled to India. It changed when I grew closer to Selina.”
“Selina?” Miss Darling seemed puzzled. “Was that before or after she married your brother?”
“Before.” He tugged at the ends of his cravat and loosened the knot. “While we’d failed to make any formal announcement, our parents expected we would marry. The night I left for Portsmouth, I asked her to join me, to elope, but she declined.”
“Oh, I see.” Miss Darling fell silent as she stared, trance-like, at the swirling pattern on the coverlet.
“One might say that being rivals in love is a good motive to commit murder,” he said, his thoughts returning to Terence as he pulled the cravat from around his neck. The motion made him think of what it might be like to feel the rough strands of the hangman’s rope chafing his skin.
“That explains why the lady had conflicting emotions upon seeing you.” Miss Darling sighed. “Nothing about this situation is simple.” She paused and did not look at him directly when she said, “Do you still love her?”
Love? He knew nothing of the emotion.
He’d been a young man, blinded by beauty, believing in loyalty, believing that any sentiment expressed came from the heart. Lies and deceit were foreign words, murder something one read about in the broadsheets.
“No.” In truth, he wasn’t sure if he had loved her at all. “She married my brother three weeks after I left these shores.” Surely that told Miss Darling all she needed to know.
After a moment of reflection, she said, “People do inconceivable things when frightened and under pressure. I understand what it is like to act out of a sense of hopelessness.”
The comment drew his thoughts back to the problems at Falaura Glen.
“Your situation must be desperate for a woman of your good character to accept my proposal, for you to leave your sister alone.” The more time he spent with Miss Darling, the more he admired her strength and tenacity. A pang of guilt stabbed his chest. He should not have made the financial reward too tempting to resist.
